Burden Of Dreams: Criterion Collection

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All Rise...

Dreams may be illusory according to Judge Bill Gibron, but one belonging to filmmaker Werner Herzog forms the basis for one of the best documentaries Criterion has ever released.

The Charge

"Without dreams we would be cows in a field, and I don't want to live
like that. I live my life or I end my life with this project."—Werner
Herzog

Opening Statement

Dreams are the lies we tell ourselves when we're asleep. They are the
pictures we paint when words can't give life to our longing. Dreams deceive and
dreams demand. They are the symptoms of obsession and the co-conspirators of
passion. They can be a wish that your heart makes or a bond with the devil that
can never be unbroken. It is so easy for us to get lost in them, to cast off the
real worries of the everyday world and bask in the warming, soothing glow of our
ultimate goals that we often find ourselves drowning in a flood of fantasy
that's near impossible to permeate. Call them pipe or fevered, the meanderings
of a mind lost or the silent whispers of the secure soul, but they never fail to
enrage and inspire. What we see inside them makes us drunk, the hope we harbor
in them making us helpless.

Some would say that nothing great can be accomplished without dreams. It's a
rationale stemming from the creation and consideration of ideas bigger and
brighter than those of the normal mind. Skyscrapers aren't the stuff of
pragmatics. An oil on canvas masterpiece cannot derive from a brain based in
logic. Somewhere locked inside all of us is a secret stash of aptitude, an
untapped pool of skill and talent that only dreams have access to. If they can
find a way to funnel this fuel into your workaday world, the epic and the
mystical are just an active attitude away. Yet sometimes, the conduit can grow
greedy, sucking up everything you have until you are dry and drained. Other
times, the channel can crack, leaving you without any access whatsoever. It
takes a rare individual to properly manage their vision vitals, applying them
when appropriate, controlling the stream to keep it clear and consistent.

Such a person is filmmaker Werner Herzog. Staunchly individualistic,
answering to no one but himself, and immersed in an aesthetic that combines
characters with their cinematic environments to illustrate what exists in both,
there is probably no other director as closely tied to his own heroic
hallucinations as he. The result has been some of the finest films ever made.
There has also been great folly, and more than a few fumbles along the way.
Nowhere was this decisive dichotomy clearer than on the set of his film Fitzcarraldo. Herzog has a singular
vision for his story, a visual that no film since has ever dared matched. What
that idea was became the basis for Les Blank and Maureen Gosling's brilliant
documentary Burden of Dreams. Fortunately, the man who forged that
thought makes an equally compelling example of visualization inviolate as
well.

Facts of the Case

In 1976, director Werner Herzog headed back to the Amazon to film Fitzcarraldo. It was the simple story
of a turn of the century man of means so in love with opera that he had visions
of opening a music hall in the middle of the jungle, just so Enrico Caruso could
christen it with a concert. A two-time Oscar winner and the notorious lead
singer of a legendary rock and roll band were hired as stars, and after months
of searching, the perfect location was found. All that stood in the way was
Herzog's most ambitious idea ever. Instead of using special effects or
miniatures, the director intended to use native labor to move an actual ship up
and over a mountain. Five years, another lead actor, and several near-disastrous
circumstances later, the movie finally made it into theaters. Like all epic
achievements, how Herzog finally got his vision on the screen is the stuff of
myth and legend. Documentary filmmakers Les Blank and Maureen Gosling were there
to catch most of it. The result is an amazing documentary about the ache of
aesthetic and the Burden of Dreams.

The Evidence

Anyone who knows director Werner Herzog and/or his movies recognizes that he
is a man driven by vision. He has staunchly believed that every facet of a
movie, from its actors to its filming, creates its own unique and individual
experience. It is up to him, as the overseer of this process, to guide the
divergent elements into a coherent whole. He believes that civilization will die
without adequate images, and that it is up to filmmakers to craft a new visual
grammar. He claims to never dream at night, but does enjoy losing himself in
happy hallucination during long walks, or while traveling—potential movies
and ideas playing out like plays inside his head. And he is also a man of his
word. He once promised a group of actors that he would throw himself into a
cactus if they all survived a particularly harrowing production. He still has
the broken-off spines in his knee ligaments to confirm his commitment.

Certainly, there have been other rumors, stories of actors threatened with
guns, the outrageous endangerment of cast and crew, and a dogmatic focus that
occasionally borders on insanity. But it's hard to discount the results. As a
filmmaker, Herzog has helmed several outstanding examples of his
mania—movies with titles like Aguirre: The Wrath of God, Where
the Green Ants Dream, and Cobra Verde. He has also crafted several
sensational documentaries, using the same internal fire to fuel Lessons of
Darkness, Little Dieter Needs to Fly, and Grizzly Man. Somewhere amidst all his
narratives and investigations, experiments and interpretations lies Fitzcarraldo. Based partly on the
director's desire to return to the Amazon (a favorite locale, not just for
moviemaking) and several stories he heard about an actual rubber baron who was
fixated on bringing art to the region, this 1982 film has a production history
as colorful and disconcerting as the movie that emerged after nearly five
nightmare years.

Luckily, Les Blank and his editor/assistant Maureen Gosling were there to
commingle in the madness. Originally, the documentarian was hired to film Herzog
making good on a bet with fellow filmmaker Errol Morris. Telling the fledgling
director that if he ever got his proposed first project off the ground, he would
eat his own shoe, Herzog arrived at a screening of Morris's magnificent Gates of Heaven to consume more
than just a little crow. It was during this shoot that Blank learned of the trip
to the Amazon and the plans for Fitzcarraldo. Listening to the stories
being circulated about what Herzog hoped to accomplish, he knew he had to sign
on. The result was a true trip into the heart of darkness, a real life story
worthy of Melville or Conrad. Focusing primarily on the movie's showpiece
sequence—the pulling of an actual 320-ton steamship over the top of a
mountain—the soon-to-be-known-as Burden of Dreams became the
motherlode of all making-of documentaries. In the short span of 95 minutes,
Blank and Gosling highlighted everything that could possibly go wrong with a
location shoot. They simultaneously created a fact film classic.

Burden of Dreams is more than just a cinematic study of Murphy's Law
and how it applies to moviemaking, however. It's not just the story of an
incredibly driven director and his desire to render fantasy out of the
pragmatic. It definitely does deal with the clash of cultures that exists
between the international creative community, the loose cannon local
Central/South American governments, and the indigenous people of the Amazon
basin. As a study in both its subject matter and its setting, it is exciting and
evocative. But at its core, this divine documentary is an explanation and an
examination. It lifts the lid off of one man's burning aesthetic designs to see
if they are, or ever were, practical in the context of motion picture
production. And it proves that, even when all around you doubt and despair, one
person's pure intentions can still stay the course. Fitzcarraldo may seem
a lesser legacy in the Herzog canon, but Burden of Dreams proves it was
always a mythical project in its creator's mind.

But there are also a lot of misnomers about this documentary, concepts that
must be debunked and debased before really understanding what Blank and Gosling
have fashioned. First of all, Burden of Dreams is not a movie about
obsession. Obsession suggests an unhealthy preoccupation, a never-ending need
that is near impossible to obtain and almost as difficult to quell. Though he
appears determined and ambitious, Herzog is not some uncontrolled amateur,
hoping to defy the odds to service his craft. Indeed, throughout Burden of
Dreams we see a man struggling to keep his internal aspiration alive and
kicking. Several times, as odds and elements conspire against him, as individual
idiosyncrasies threaten to topple his already frail and fragile film, Herzog
perseveres. His spirit may be bent, but it has not broken. Even with actors
dropping out (original cast members Jason Robards and Mick Jagger left after
more than a third of the filming) and rebels burning down his film camp,
Fitzcarraldo is a film he must finish. It's not a matter of obsession;
it's a matter of personal pride.

Burden of Dreams is also not a movie about passion. There is a
suggestion of joy and sorrow in such a word, a notion that somehow, this amazing
ardor is actually hiding a far more tempered feeling. If anything, Blank's film
focuses on that razor-thin line between obsession, passion and madness, a
volatile vortex where all three exist in perfect, peculiar harmony. Herzog is
very much a man of fervor when working on his films. We see him stomping through
sets, leaping through obstacles, and grabbing extras, making sure they are in
the proper place when the cameras roll. But he is not a fiery individual filled
with untapped instability. Perhaps it's because of his Teutonic nature, or his
steadfast focus, but Herzog's proposed passion is all internalized and indirect.
Instead of arguing his point, he merely gets up and performs it. When situations
seem the most grave or alarming, he simply steps up and argues for a
"little less precaution"(such a zombified zeal causes the local
structural engineer helping with the ship move to quit). Because he must balance
all facets of the film—as any director typically does—Herzog has
faith in his ability to control. It is not manic, but measured.

One thing's for sure: Burden of Dreams is definitely not a movie
about courage and fearlessness. People have often gotten the wrong impression
about Herzog's productions. They hear the boasting and the bragging, the lack of
personal consideration and dismissal of tenable threats and think there is some
kind of death-defying wish to how this director makes movies. In modern terms,
some might call it the cult of X-cinema. But once again, this documentary
dispenses with such nonsensical sentiments. Herzog states often that his movies
are not crafted on the backs of daredevils or those with a reckless disregard
for human safety. Instead, he points to nature as the prime culprit, an entity
unforgiving and unwilling to compromise or consider. No one tempts fate or dares
destiny in Burden of Dreams. Instead, there is a kind of tentative truce
with the exotic elements around the production, a peace forged out of respect,
not ridiculous risk taking. The only reason these people and their predicament
seem so audacious to us is that we know we'd not have the courage to stand up to
the rudiments and fight. Ironically enough, the cast and crew of
Fitzcarraldo recognize this as well. Theirs is an action born out of
reverence, not carelessness.

And finally, no matter how it may seem on the outside, no matter what you
may have heard or what is hinted at in the review, this is not a movie about
ego. Sure, sense of self is at play all throughout Burden of Dreams, a
steadfast notion of one's importance and place within the motion picture pecking
order (you can't have the crazed Klaus Kinski on the set and not experience some
manner of unrealistic arrogance). But many confuse Herzog's desire to conquer
nature with a hubris as high as a rainforest canopy. In truth, this documentary
downplays the importance of the individual and reemphasizes the need for a
mutual admiration society on set. Certainly, it's easy to see why Herzog is
pinpointed as a narcissist and egotist. He is the leader of his lunatic asylum,
a man trying to pull a ship over a mountain without the aid of optical effects
or show business trickery. If he succeeds, he is a genuine genius. If he fails,
it's just another marker in his book of failed folklore.

Blank and Gosling downplay the prima donna for the primitive, making the
jungle the most conceited concept in the film. It's the rapids that are laughing
at Herzog as he tries to film his climatic shots. It's the weather that is
crafting the miserable mud that sucks everything in with a cement-like grip.
Nature is scoffing at Fitzcarraldo, daring it to take on its tyrannical,
titanic facets. It's the planet that's puffing its chest. Herzog and company
just want to play within its precarious parameters.

So, then what is Burden of Dreams really about? Is it just the story
of how a movie was made, or is there really more to the tale than the highly
dramatic saga of movie-man vs. nature. At its core, Blank and Gosling have made
a film about creativity at the crossroads, a movie that examines the nature of
art and those who are driven to discover it. While the Amazon is given a
powerful presence here—like Herzog, Blank loves landscapes and uses every
opportunity possible to highlight them—this is not a travelogue, not some
goofy glorified press kit about a group of neophytes tackling the impenetrable
elements of the jungle. Instead, Burden of Dreams describes how a single
individual, focused and assured, can wander into the most inhospitable of
terrains and craft a vision—a combination of his own ability transformed
and tamed by the elements themselves. In addition, the documentary illustrates
how such a desire can undermine even the most malleable man. Herzog sighs that
he may not make movies upon Fitzcarraldo's completion. It is not a
sentiment born out of sadness however. It is the result of the joyless juncture
that nature and dreams have tossed him into.

As for the accusations leveled against him, Herzog may not be obsessed, but
he clearly knows what he wants. We witness take after take of the most humdrum
sequences, the filmmaker unsettled by what he sees in the lens. His passive
eagerness may be confused with Germanic frigidity, but it could also be the
personality of a man who merely intensely intellectualizes everything. In
Herzog's mind, failure is the only fear. The rest of the potential problems can
be overcome with professionalism and preparedness. Ego has a place, an ultimate
slot at the right hand of dreams. It takes a special kind of madness to make art
out of actuality—to literally move mountains to sanctify your sense of
scope. When Fitzcarraldo finally arrived in theaters, the steamship
steadily climbing up the Earth became a symbol for Herzog's efforts to manage
his muse. Thanks to Burden of Dreams, we realize that there was much more
to said coping and control than rage, risk, and regret. There was a dream, in
all its fanciful, fatalistic glory. Someone had to carry the yoke. This amazing
documentary suggests that there was no better beast for such a burden than the
man who forged it in the first place.

Documentaries are always a reflection of their creation, from the elements
used to capture the footage to the circumstances surrounding the filming. From
budgets to the instability of nature, Burden of Dreams was destined to be
less of a cinematic sensation and more of a pragmatic motion picture. But
Criterion proves that even the most homemade of movie ideals can look dynamic in
a digital remaster. The 1.33:1 full screen image here is excellent, offering a
time capsule-like quality that distinguishes this transfer from other stylized
and super-slick creations. You can feel the jungle in the print here, the
lushness and humidity. It gives everything a verdant, almost balmy ambience. We
do experience some fading, as well as grit and grain, but when you're dealing
with raw stock that occasionally mildewed right in the camera, and less than
perfect logistics and lighting, the lack of crystal clarity is excused.
Burden of Dreams is supposed to resemble a series of pages ripped out of
a worn-out, well-used scrapbook. Criterion does very little to obscure this
particular penetrating POV detail.

On the sound side, Blank and Gosling also enjoyed playing with all the aural
aspects at their disposal for the Dolby Digital Mono mix. Using opera and arias
as their main scoring, while also blending in native sounds—birds,
animals, insects, water—that blanket the Amazon in sonic showers,
Burden of Dreams's decibel dynamics will have you grasping for a cool
drink of water. It does a marvelous job of reinterpreting the rainforest into a
complementary auditory experience.

As with many of their most amazing products, Criterion creates what can best
be described as a second, supplemental "documentary" for Burden of
Dreams—a multimedia mix of commentaries, interviews, short films,
deleted scenes, and an 80-page booklet with excerpts from Blank and Gosling's
production diary. You can label this material the Additional Burden of
Specific Dreams, since it tends to fill in all the blanks left behind in the
documentary proper, and the film Fitzcarraldo itself.

On the alternate narrative track, all three principals (Blank and Gosling
together, Herzog separately) are present to give their perspective and insight
into the experience. Herzog laments that Blank was absent for some of the more
"meaty" production problems, while Gosling tends to downplay the
pitfalls they faced while surviving in the jungle. Blank is more technical,
discussing how certain shots were obtained, and the background on how/why
certain scenes occurred. In general, the conversation is pointed and somehow
sad. Everyone understands that this movie and the documentary made about it were
defining career moments. The revisit reveals how little has changed, and how
much is depressingly different since then.

Herzog also gets a solo sitdown, as he discusses almost every aspect of his
life and career in a 40-minute Q&A. One has to say that listening to someone
intelligent speak for themselves in complete sentences and immaculately
cogent thoughts is rather disconcerting at first. But as he loosens up and
starts to illustrate his points, Herzog becomes an additive narrator. He has the
rare ability to sound considered and spontaneous at the same time. His words
flow within that clever, clipped accent, and you sense a real comprehension and
calm in his manner. During the discussion, he downplays the Kinski connection
(they only made five movies together) and stresses that his was never a
stunt-oriented conceit. He wanted to avoid a "plastic solution" for
the ship sequence (read: special effects) and hoped that, when viewed, the
audience would be able to "trust their eyes," free from
post-production input. His good jungle/bad jungle anecdote explains why Jack
Nicholson did not get the lead, and for all his fame, he still seems ashamed of
how Burden of Dreams described his productions. One of the most
fascinating face-to-face featurettes you'll ever see, fans of the filmmaker and
Fitzcarraldo will want the DVD for this extra alone.

But there is much, much more. Remember the bet? The eating of the shoe? The
reason Blank got involved in the first place? The short film Werner Herzog
Eats His Shoe is presented here in all its hilarious, heartening 20-minute
merriment. Watching a famed filmmaker fulfill his foolish promise to a fledgling
member of the fold is goofy as well as gripping. The deleted scenes are actually
snippets from Herzog's documentary on Klaus Kinski, My Best Fiend. Used with Blank's
permission, both focus on the infamous actor. One shows Kinski in complete
meltdown mode; the other has him quiet and serene, literally playing with and
petting a butterfly. We learn more about this amazing man and the rest of the
Fitzcarraldo crew in the hefty production diary. Filled with specifics
and interesting asides, it's a must-have complement to this overall impressive
presentation.

Closing Statement

With all their lies and deception, their corruption and false hopes, dreams
should somehow be banished, right? We should formulate drugs to rid ourselves of
such siren song cesspools, cisterns that promise possibilities but almost
exclusively produce personal poisons. Dreams are destructive and divisive,
making us doubt ourselves and our addled mindsets. They should be forbidden and
foiled…except, without them, we wouldn't have art. Music would stop making
sonic sense and museums would be solely stocked with the rotting bones of
extinct species. Science would also stall, the big thinkers unable to generate
their grandiose, galling thoughts. The writer would spit out the most
perfunctory of prose while the chef would serve salted starches and call it
haute cuisine.

You see, dreams have a value, albeit one with a price both incredibly
painful and miserably steep. Yet without them, life ceases to have sagacity.
With them, there is ache and torment, but there is also ambience and tone.
Dreams color our world with the paints of perception. We should gladly carry the
burden to produce sights of such succulence and sounds of somber stoicism.
Werner Herzog dared to delude himself, and it nearly destroyed him. But when the
result is something as sensational as Burden of Dreams (and, arguably, Fitzcarraldo) the sacrifice seems
completely logical. There is no satisfaction without some sting, and there can
be no cinema without dreams.

The Verdict

Burden of Dreams is found not guilty and is free to go. Criterion is
also acquitted on all charges. The court can't imagine another verdict. It
wouldn't dream of holding this film or this company in contempt.